


On a Pint and a Prayer

by huffspuffsblows



Category: Road to El Dorado (2000)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huffspuffsblows/pseuds/huffspuffsblows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tulio finds himself between a rock and a hard place during the festivities of their warm welcome in El Dorado. Will he ever not be humiliated? Will the Chief put two and two together?  Will Miguel listen to the little voice? Will Chel ever get off Tulio's dick? Stay tuned for this episode and find out!</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a Pint and a Prayer

It wasn't until around the middle of the feast did someone notice. Tulio had been sitting at the head of the long banquet table, minding his own Godly business and occasionally sipping from the third cup of wine (Or whatever it was, Tulio had stopped asking in the middle of cup 2) that had been enthusiastically shoved into his reluctant hands, when the chief ambled up to him and leaned over close enough for the Spaniard to get a good whiff of the spicy musk that seemed to cloud the older man, startling him into awareness. [he had been leaning on his palm for the past ten minutes, eyelids drooping dangerously low, a bit of some sort of sauce, frankly he didn't want to know what it was made of, smeared across his chin]

"I apologize for bothering you, my lord, but do you know where his lord Miguel has gone? I could have sworn he was here just a moment ago."

Tulio had just enough time for a frown, the wrinkles of his forehead made possible by many hours of scowling puckering to life, before hands emerged from beneath the table, unseen to his eyes of course, but he could certainly feel their warmth skimming across his thighs, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against his flesh; reminding him just what they could accomplish with a little incentive.

In the shock that followed Tulio must have made a noise [or some other reaction, such as jumping five feet in his chair and shrieking] judging by the puzzled expression on the Chief's face. Thankfully the other natives were too preoccupied by the frenzied festivities sparked by the 'Gods' arrival to pay any attention to the spazzy God.

"Aha. Ha. Ha. Ahem. Excuse me, I must've had something in my crot- throat. Throat." By this time Tulio's big blue eyes were as wide as Cortez' prominent chin had been during the whole flogging incident [in which Tulio had discovered yet another questionable part of his partner's enjoyment], he was fumbling for words and praying to every god out there, even himself, that the hands that were still between his thighs would not cause any mischief.

He obviously hadn't caught the memo in which it was finally established that his luck had taken an indefinite leave of absence and wouldn't check in until never.

"I'm sure he's around here som-" The hands suddenly slid higher, featherlight touches ghosting across the V where his hip met and flourished (God damn tease). The fabric of his....well, native skirt, for better lack of a word, was beginning to ride up into dangerous territory. All anyone had to do was peek beneath the table and all would be revealed.

Not that their shenanigans hadn't been out in the open before, but this was the New World and he had a bit of class, thankyouverymuch.

"Lord Tulio?" The Chief's right eyebrow was cocked so high it was nearly lost in that mop of dark locks, the perplexed expression only deepening the laugh lines around his mouth and across his forehead.

Tulio cleared his throat, setting the wine on the table, just in case anything else decided to go wrong, and started again. "What I meant to say is, he's probably around here somewhere. Enjoying the attention." He smiled, as if his half grimace half frown could diffuse the concern gleaming in the Chief's eyes.

"But where could he have gone? He certainly is free spirited. Though that reminds me of the time..." While the Chief started on his long, drawn out story, there was a familiar brush of coarse hair tickling his cock, sending red flags flashing across his brain. The brains currently residing in his cock began to do the Flamenco in earnest. 

Then without any preamble something that could only be his partner's tongue licked a wet trail up his cock, rendering a strangled shriek from his lips and sending his knees rocketing into the wooden table above him, hands mysteriously finding their way to the edges of his chair.

“--ulio, what’s wrong?!” He finally ceased the grinding of his teeth and noticed the overwhelming concern of the Chief, who was suddenly a lot closer to his danger zone than Tulio would have liked. Funny thing is, Tulio doesn’t like a lot of things thus. The problem. 

One half of his mouth curled upwards in a bullshitting smile while the other half remained fixed in a state of permanent horror, baby blues as wide as the creepy Priests’ forehead. His hands reached beneath the table to grab fingerfulls of shaggy blonde hair, attempting to drag that mouth away instead of listening to the little voice in his nether regions which shouted to move them hips. Now. Had his inner voice always sounded so constipated? “E-er….look ther-” the scorching hot mouth wrapped around his tip, sucking playfully and only serving to endanger his dignity. 

“Ahhn- l-look over there I think…..nnn…I see him!” He was trying to eliminate the amount of shaking his hips did, really he was, but beads of sweat were trickling into his eyes, he was beginning to lose feeling in his lower lip due to biting down so hard, and he was pretty damn sure the big Kahuna had an inkling as to fishy business. In a few hundred years, if his chair survived, the marks his nails left behind would serve as ancient research into the life and times of the natives. Party research. To rectify his current behavior, he turned the grin up another five watts, released some of his partners' hair, and pointed in some random direction.

The Chief stared at him blankly, as if he was seriously contemplating whether or not he should believe the strange new God, looked in the direction Tulio indicated like a good little boy, nodded curtly, and excused himself, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Tulio was hoping that was just an after effect of the native booze. But he had other problems to worry about for the moment.

Once he was sure everyone else was preoccupied and wouldn’t notice a naughty God or two, he peeked between his legs and glowered at the triumphant grin he received in return. “You cabron, what if I would have…have made some noise or something?!” He hissed, just barely resisting the urge to strangle his partner, his lecture most definitely climaxing in an overly concerned squeak. 

Miguel’s smirk widened, unperturbed by the insult. “You are the brains of this team, aren’t you, darling? You would have thought of something. You could have said you were chanting a prayer to the Gods or whatever. Besides, I live to make you make those noises.”

“We are Gods.” Tulio deadpanned, eyes narrowed into slits. His naturally tanned cheeks flushed hotly upon the reminder of his more notorious noises. "Shut up." Good come back, ese. 

The blonde winked and gave his partners’ crotch a soothing squeeze. “There now, see? That wasn’t so bad, was it.” He settled back on the heels of his feet, thumbs unconsciously tracing the too sharp line of Tulio's hip. “I am a bit peckish, though. My little eye spotted an entire pig roasting, just for us. So much for no shirt no service. I guess since I’m done here--” his effort to move out from under the table was halted by Tulio’s hand on his head, entangling in the soft golden locks.

They stared deep into each others eyes. Soul searchingly deep. 

“I didn’t say you could stop,” Tulio muttered sulkily. “Especially after all the trouble you put me through. I didn't know you were the type to quit while you were ahead, Senior Mandolin.”

He got his answer in the form of a sly smirk and warm lips. Challenge accepted, partner.


End file.
